


Blank Space

by NeverForgetStarkiller



Series: Gingerpilot Holiday 2018 [9]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: How far will Hux go for a revenge ploy, Hux is petty, Hux shows evidence of abuse from elsewhere, M/M, Oral Sex, Phasma Lives, Poe doesn't recognize Hux, Post-TLJ Modern AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-04 23:23:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17313791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverForgetStarkiller/pseuds/NeverForgetStarkiller
Summary: Day 12: FREE DAY (Anything Gingerpilot!)Poe is always on the lookout for the next love of his life, but there may have been an oversight when he chose to pursue this particular redhead.





	1. I Can Read You Like a Magazine

**Author's Note:**

> Part one of a story I've been working on for a while. Rating is subject to change in future installments.

It was a bar that neither Rey nor Finn had a desire to be inside. The place was upscale. Too upscale, and Rey had the creeping feeling they didn’t belong there. Finn had more than a creeping feeling and had voiced his thoughts about a dozen times on the walk to the door. Poe just smiled and slipped the bouncer enough money that the man didn’t question what they were wearing.

“This is a bad idea,” said Finn. He eyed the other patrons with Rey. Almost everyone in the place was dressed to the nines. Men in dress shirts and suit pants, women in pencil skirts with formal blouses and diamond earrings so big they had to be uncomfortable to wear.

Rey, Finn, and Poe didn’t match these people. Rey was in khaki capris and a brown top that showed her shoulders. Her hair was tied up in knots, unpierced ears missing the glitz that was required here. Finn was worse off, he thought, because Rey was at least a pretty girl. He was just some guy in casual pants, a loose shirt, and a leather jacket – all of which he’d borrowed from Poe. And Poe? Poe looked about like Finn, but he wore it with a smile and with a look that said he was delighted to stand out in the crowd.

“Alright,” Finn said with a glance around. “You proved your point. We’re in. Let’s go.”

“You guys wanted to go get drinks,” said Poe. “They’ve got drinks here.”

Rey watched a gorgeous woman behind the bar hand a man in a suit a shot of whiskey. “Sure,” she said. “But I don’t think we can afford them.”

“Not with that attitude,” Poe said.

“Not with the five dollars I have in my pocket,” said Rey.

“You’re just not speaking the language of this place.” Poe looked around. “It’s not about affording anything.”

“No,” Finn hissed. “We’re not hitting on strangers to get drinks. Rose is already starting to think you’re a bad influence.”

“Rose loves me,” Poe said.

“Well, I think you’re a bad influence,” said Rey. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, glancing at the missed calls. She frowned and swiped the notifications away. “And, this isn’t helping.”

“Thank you,” Finn said, gesturing at Rey to prove his point.

“I didn’t say anything about ‘hitting on strangers.’ Just that we don’t have to pay to get drinks.”

“Or,” said Finn, “we could have taken the money you used to pay off the bouncer and gotten drinks the normal way just fine at a real bar.”

“Wouldn’t be as fun.” Poe moved an arm around each of them. Finn just looked at him. Rey winced at the sudden contact, clenching her phone in her fist.  Poe grinned. “You two need to relax. Watch and learn.”

He walked up to the bar, leaving them in his wake. “He’s just in a weird mood,” said Finn. “I’m starting to think he’s already been drinking.”

Rey glanced at Finn and nodded. She didn’t need her friend to apologize for his friend. But she didn’t need any of this right now, either. More than anything, Rey had wanted to stay in her room and curl up in a ball and cry. She would’ve been angry with herself if she’d done that, she’d reasoned. So, she’d decided it would be more productive to go out with Finn for drinks. Now, she regretted not staying home.

It didn’t take Poe more than a few seconds to pick a target. The bar in the center of the place was a large circle, and about 30 degrees down the bar was a group of people who looked all business. Suits and ties all around, chatting without smiles. He watched them for a moment, studying the group. Then Poe called over the bartender. “Hey, can I get a drink?” Anticipating the next question, he added, “Surprise me.” The woman didn’t question it. She just made two of another patron’s order and slid the second to Poe. “Thanks,” Poe said. “Put it on his tab.” Poe waved vaguely toward the business troupe. The bartender raised an eyebrow but nodded, walking away. “And, just like that,” Poe said, heading back to Finn and Rey. “Free drink.” “Where did you get that?” asked Finn.

“I thought I told you two to watch.”

Finn crossed his arms. “Well, yeah, but what’d you say to the bartender?”

Poe shrugged and took a drink. “To put it on some guy’s tab.”

“What guy?” Finn asked. “And, how did you know he had a tab?”

“I don’t know. I just pointed toward a group. It was an educated guess.” Poe offered the drink to Rey.

She glanced away from her phone. “What is it?” Her phone made a beeping sound that silenced as soon as she tapped the ignore button. She reached out without looking to take the drink from Poe, deciding his answer didn’t matter.

“Not sure…” Poe said, watching her drink the rest in one swallow. Poe exchanged a glance with Finn.

“Who’s calling you?” asked Finn.

“No one,” said Rey. “Spam caller.” Finn frowned, but the answer was plausible enough he didn’t question it.

Poe nodded. “I’m going to get more drinks. Any requests?” “I’m not sure I want to steal drinks from someone I don’t know,” said Finn.

“Anything,” said Rey.

Poe went back to the bar and got more drinks a few times. The most Finn did was sip a weird green cocktail just to try it. Other than that, he left the drinking to Poe and Rey. And, in Rey’s case, it was becoming apparent that drinking was a mistake.

Her phone rang, and Rey reached for it in her pocket, picking it up and holding it to her ear before her eyes widened with realization at what she’d done. She shoved her drink at Finn and hung up, shutting the phone off.

Poe raised an eyebrow. “You okay there, Rey?”

“No,” said Rey. “I don’t want anything else to drink.”

“Spam caller still bothering you?”

“He won’t stop calling,” said Rey. “And, I can’t. I can’t talk to him. I can’t do this, now.”

“Him?” Finn asked. He frowned. “Rey…”

“I thought drinking would help, and it’s not. I want to be angry, but I’m just so… upset.”

“Rey, who’s ‘him?’” Finn asked.

“No one,” said Rey. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Finn opened his mouth to press the issue, so Poe moved a hand to Finn’s arm and shook his head. Poe didn’t know much about Rey, but he knew himself quite well. He was used to some pretty awful post-breakup frustration. Finn wasn’t. Finn’s first real relationship was his friendship with Rey, then he’d fallen into dating Rose and had never turned back. Rey was different than that. Finn knew her the best, from what Poe understood, but she and Finn had spent a decent amount of time apart. Which meant there was time unaccounted for on Finn’s side. Something he might not understand. Poe liked to think he did understand.

Poe knew relationships all too well. Most of them didn’t turn out the way Finn and Rose had.

“I’ll take this drink back to the bar,” said Poe. “Then we should head out. Get ice cream or something. We can take some back to Rose.”

“She’s at work,” said Finn.

“You sure about that?”

Finn checked the time and rubbed his eyes. “How the hell is it eleven already?” Rey excused herself to the bathroom, and Poe walked her unfinished drink back to the bartender.

“Thanks,” said Poe. He leaned against the bar and gave the woman behind it a winning smile. “I think my friends and I are about to head out.”

“So soon,” said a woman, but the bartender’s lips didn’t move. Poe turned around to find himself eye-level with someone’s chest. He leaned his head back, back, back until he was craning it to look up at a woman in a full business suit. She was a giant, thought Poe. The tallest human being he’d ever seen in person.

Poe hid his surprise with a tilted smile. “So, that’s the female version. Tall, fair, and beautiful.”

The woman’s pale blonde hair was chopped short and left as-is. She didn’t appear to be the type to worry about her hairstyle or makeup. She was well over six feet tall, and Poe wondered if vanity mirrors were even tall enough for her to appear in them. Her lips tightened as Poe spoke.

“You’re the one who’s been using our tab,” she said, and Poe noted that she was British. Her accent was severe, more clipped than Rey’s. Then again, she might just be angry.

“Was that your tab?” Poe asked. “I thought I was pretty clear with the bartender. I’ll get this all straightened out, then.”

“Don’t bother,” said the woman. “That’s what I’m here for. My employer sent me over to get this taken care of.”

“Your employer,” said Poe. He couldn’t see past the giant woman to send a warning look toward Finn. Not that Finn would have understood. If Snap or Jess had come, they could’ve taken the hint to come save Poe. Finn wasn’t yet used to getting caught up in these situations. Poe, on the other hand, was, and he was becoming increasingly concerned he’d just pissed off a British mobster. Which meant he needed to talk, and fast. “Maybe I could get this straightened out with the man in charge, then?”

“You’ll have to settle for the woman in charge.”

Poe swallowed and glanced toward where the group had been earlier. The group was smaller, now. About half of the businessmen had left. The ones who remained were watching from their seats. One watched with an eyebrow quirked in interest. This one was sipping a drink that looked suspiciously like water, his cold, grey eyes on Poe. He was ivory-pale like the giant woman, but his hair was what commanded immediate attention. He had strawberry-blond hair, an uncommon red-gold, styled just-so, combed and gelled so not one hair was out of place. He, thought Poe, was the man in charge. He had to be. Poe caught the man’s eyes and winked then looked back at the woman. “Is the redhead your brother?”

The woman moved a hand to Poe’s shoulder, her grip stronger than he’d feared. “Why don’t we take this outside?”

“That’s a little faster than I like to move on a first date,” Poe said as she started to drag him out of the bar. He glanced around but didn’t see Finn. Maybe Finn had gone to check on Rey. _Great._ “You could at least tell me your name, beautiful.”

“Phasma,” said a man’s voice.

The woman stopped short and turned toward the one who’d just spoken. Her grip on Poe’s shoulder was still too tight for Poe to run, but his curiosity might have stopped him from trying, anyway, the moment he saw the redheaded man walk toward them.

“Sir,” she said.

“That’s enough,” said the redhead. He turned his grey eyes on Poe as if he was confident those were all he needed to keep Poe in place. Phasma removed her hand from Poe’s shoulder and stepped back.

“Quite the woman you’ve got,” Poe said. He meant it to come off as charming, but the words left his lips cold.

“Do you always take advantage of other people’s generosity?” asked the man. As Poe suspected, he had that British accent, too. Formal and clean with each word sounding as rehearsed as the one before. Poe didn’t mind the accent, but it wasn’t like Rey’s. He hadn’t placed it coming from Phasma, but as the man spoke it, Poe realized the main difference. From them, the accent seemed fake.

“Do you always talk in that accent? Because I’d love to hear the limits of when it ends…”

The man’s already-high cheekbones tensed and pulled up a little higher on his face. “I can’t imagine people let you get away with stealing from them again and again.”

Poe smirked. The man didn’t want to engage him. That was a game Poe knew how to play. “We could test those limits. How long are you in town?”

The man’s eyes narrowed a bit. “You realize that’s what you attempted to do. Steal from me.”

“Is that your natural hair color?”

“Of course, it is,” the man said. His voice was careful, and Poe could tell just from the blank look on his face that the man wasn’t sure what Poe was trying to do. But he’d taken the bait. They were talking, now. Poe could handle talking.

“That’s kind of hard to believe. You could show me.”

The redhead’s eyes went from blank to empty. It was a similar look, but Poe noticed. The imperceptible difference between a man in control or out of it. He was back in. So, he wasn’t clueless. “Poe Dameron,” he said after a moment.

A lesser man might have been thrown, but Poe grinned. “You’ve heard about me.”

“Your reputation precedes you,” the man said with that perfect, controlled expression.

“All bad things, I hope,” said Poe.

“Awful.”

“Well, don’t just take someone else’s word for it, Red.”

“Armitage,” the redhead said after a long moment of consideration.

“Armitage,” repeated Poe. He smirked. “Now, that’s a name. How long are you in town, Armitage?”

“What makes you think I don’t live here?”

“The accent. Your crowd. Intuition.”

“The weekend,” said Armitage.

“Schedule filled with business?”

“Mostly.”

“I like mostly,” said Poe. He bit his lip, glancing over the redhead in a full business suit. He knew the type. Hard-working, career-minded, repressed… “I’ve got some free time this weekend, too.”

“Sir,” said Phasma.

Armitage glanced at her and nodded. “Go.” She walked past Armitage to their other business associates; she joined them as they walked to the door.

“Sister?” asked Poe. He glanced at the man’s hands, checking for a ring. Nothing.

“Yes,” said Armitage after a moment. “Goodbye, Dameron.”

He’d done it. Poe took a deep breath. No harm, no foul. He was going to get away without getting beaten up by the giant woman, after all. He could’ve taken the victory. Instead, he decided that pushing his luck wouldn’t hurt. He handed his phone to the redhead. “Put your number under whatever you want. I’ll be changing it to ‘Cute Ginger From the Bar.’”

If Armitage was pleased, he didn’t smile. Just flashed those empty eyes toward Poe, then put a phone number into Poe’s contact list, not entering his name or any of the other optional information. He dropped the phone back in Poe’s hand.

 _Successful night_ , thought Poe. Free drinks and a rich guy’s phone number. “Guess we’ll see where this goes,” Poe said. “I’ve got a feeling I’ll be seeing a lot of you.”

“You have no idea,” said Armitage. Then he was leaving, and Poe was watching him go.

“Damn,” said Poe. He smiled and shook his head. He glanced toward the bar then walked over to the bathrooms.

Finn was standing there, an arm around Rey. When Poe approached, Finn shot him a panicked look. “Poe, we need to get her to the hospital.” “What, why?”

Rey shook her head. “It’s not the alcohol…”

“She’s got alcohol poisoning. She was throwing up.”

Poe raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t mean she’s got alcohol poisoning. You okay, Rey?”

“I just want to be home,” she said. She didn’t mean her room at Rose’s apartment, but that’s where they took her.

“What happened?” asked Rose.

“She drank too much,” said Finn.

Poe helped Finn put Rey on her bed. “Not surprising,” Poe said, “if you look at her. Next time, we’ll know to cut her off.”

Rose nodded. “Good.” She glanced at Poe. “There’s… Not going to be good news when you go in on Monday.”

“Never is lately,” said Poe. “Guess I need to enjoy my weekend, then.” He hugged Finn and told Rose to let Rey know he hoped she’d feel better soon. Then Poe headed home. The guy’s phone number was American, Poe noticed, as he added the contact under “1-Cute Ginger From the Bar.” He liked to lead with a number in the name so it would be high in his contacts list while things lasted. If things ended well, he’d take the number off and save the guy under his real name. If they ended badly, he might do the same or he might delete the contact altogether. _Or, maybe_ , thought Poe, _this would be the one._ It wasn’t like he ever hoped that a new fling would end. He just found it was better to expect it.

He took off his shirt and laid down, moving one hand to the ring on his necklace. With the other hand he texted, “ _Hope you made it home safe, Cute Ginger From the Bar. Don’t make many plans for the weekend.”_

“Hm.” Hux glanced at the text on his phone.

“What is it?” asked Phasma.

Hux showed the message to Phasma. “He’s established contact.”

Rather than respond to that or the content of the text, Phasma said, “You gave him your actual phone number?”

“I didn’t suspect he’d be insane enough to use it.”

“Insane isn’t a word I’d use. Stupid.”

Hux smirked. “You don’t think he knows?”

“How could he?” asked Phasma. “And, still be so casual?”

“Fair enough,” said Hux. He set the phone down and finished typing out his report for the day, sending it off. He closed his laptop on the hotel desk.

“Are you going to respond?” Phasma asked.

He packed the computer back in his laptop case, disinterested. “I haven’t decided yet. Perhaps I’ll send him to a restaurant downtown.”

“An expensive one,” she suggested. Hux nodded.

“Goodnight, Phasma.”

Phasma nodded and stood. “Goodnight, Armitage.” She left. The door clicked behind her, and once it was closed, Hux shot a look toward the door.

He picked up the phone. “ _I’m in the hotel room, though I’d hardly call it home.”_ Hux had formed a plan the second the text message came in. But he would be damned if he was going to tell traitor bitch Phasma. He didn’t trust her. Not with this. Perhaps not with anything anymore; that remained to be seen. After Starkiller’s failure – a failure she hadn’t owned up to… Phasma would need to repair that trust.

Not that he didn’t like her, still. Phasma was reliable most of the time. She excelled at any task that benefited her or satiated her bloodlust. This plan wasn’t on her level. What she’d done to Hux’s father had been different. They’d both hated Brendol Hux. This was more singular, more personal, and Hux wanted to handle it. Having Phasma beat up Poe Dameron didn’t seem as… fulfilling as crushing the man on his own.  


	2. I Can Make the Bad Guys Good For a Weekend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First dates escalate quickly.

Poe got to the restaurant right on time, but when he checked in with the host he was told that his date had already arrived. Poe followed the host to a table in the back, where Cute Ginger From the Bar was sitting. The redhead looked about a million times better than Poe remembered, and Poe didn’t think that was just his own bias getting in the way. _Armitage_ , Poe thought.

“Hey,” said Poe.

Armitage looked at him, and the faintest smile crossed the ginger’s face. “Hello,” he said.

Poe sat down across from him, and the host walked away. “You got here early,” Poe said.

“In my line of work, early is on time,” said Armitage. “On time is late. And, late… You don’t want to be late.”

“Does that make me late, then?”

“Yes, it does.” Pale, grey eyes peered at Poe across the table.

“Sorry I’m late, then.” Poe grinned.

Armitage’s impassive face softened, the edge of his lip twitching in something that might have turned into a smile if he’d let it. He took a drink from the glass of water in his hand. They settled into a comfortable silence as Poe glanced at the menu, decided it didn’t really matter what he ordered since he couldn’t tell what half of it was, and gave up as the waiter came to the table. Armitage ordered something that Poe swore he hadn’t seen anywhere on the menu, and Poe shrugged when the waiter looked his way. “Surprise me.”

The waiter took the menus and walked off. Poe looked over at his date, just to find Armitage looking at his phone.

_Never a good sign_ , thought Poe. “Work?”

The phone slipped back away, and Armitage nodded. “My boss is new. And, incompetent.”

_You’re not the boss?_ Poe almost asked. Then, deciding that might be a sore spot, he asked, “What is it you do for work?”

“Does that matter?” asked Armitage.

“I’m curious. Is it one of those you’d have to kill me if you told me deals?”

“Yes,” said Armitage. “Or something like that.”

Poe nodded and took a drink of water. “You’re a dangerous guy, then. You don’t look that bad.”

“Is that how you judge threats?” Armitage watched Poe.  “By their looks?”

“It’s at least a big part of how I judge my dates.”

“So, you’re shallow.”

“Hey, I said, ‘a part.’” Poe rested his elbows on the edge of the table, and Armitage flashed him a look that labeled him a heathen. “I think we’re all lying if we say looks are completely unimportant.”

Armitage studied Poe with a concentrated expression. Poe guessed he was either about to pick up his things and go or lean back and cede the point. The redhead did neither. He sipped from his water, then set the glass aside, looked at Poe, and said, “We can’t go to my hotel room after this. My peers wouldn’t approve.”

Poe paused. “Yeah. Sure. Of course.” He glanced over Armitage and tried to decide if he could interpret that as something other than a self-invite to Poe’s place. Armitage didn’t seem the type. Then again, he was in town for this weekend only. “My place is empty,” said Poe. “No roommates or anything.”

“Your place it is, then.”

It wasn’t that Poe didn’t hook up with guys on a first date. It was that he’d placed Armitage as more… coy. One of those guys who would flirt, maybe, but leave everything else to Poe. Poe wasn’t often wrong about people.

“Works for me,” said Poe, mustering a smile to regain some semblance of power.

The food came to the table, and Poe ate whatever it was he’d gotten. He still wasn’t sure of what it was. Armitage ate, too, but it was the most delicate-looking procedure Poe had ever seen. Each movement was tense and calculated; Armitage glanced over each bite of food with scrutinizing eyes before taking it into his mouth.

 

He didn’t apply the same scrutiny to Poe’s cock. Poe hadn’t managed to do much more than close the door and flip on the lights before Armitage was on his knees, undoing Poe’s pants. Poe moved a hand to the wall to steady himself. “Damn, you don’t waste time,” he said, the last few words little more than a growl as his voice failed him. Armitage took Poe into his mouth, working Poe’s cock with a warm, wet tongue that Poe was sure he was going to miss for the rest of his life once Armitage was gone.

Poe leaned his head back against the wall and focused on breathing. Every movement of Armitage’s mouth sent tremors through Poe’s body, and Poe had to gasp for air no matter how much he focused.  

Armitage rolled his tongue along the underside of Poe’s cock, taking Poe deeper into his mouth. His cold fingers slid across Poe’s thigh and cupped his balls. Poe shivered. Armitage glanced upward, and Poe’s half-lidded eyes met his.

“You’re good at this,” Poe groaned. He gave a faint smirk. Armitage looked away and made no attempt to answer, instead moving his head over Poe’s cock, his lips sliding over it again and again. Poe curled his fingers against the wall and tried to think of something else, anything else, to keep his hips from bucking forward. “Armitage…”

The redhead seemed to like that. His eyes met Poe’s again, and he sucked in, taking Poe in deep enough that Poe thought he might choke him. Poe’s heart pounded in his chest, and his hips jerked forward, thrusting himself farther into Armitage’s mouth. Poe moaned and broke eye contact, soaking in the feeling before he thought to apologize, but it seemed Armitage had liked that, too, his eyes fiercer, now, -- almost feral – as his mouth relaxed around Poe.

Poe swallowed a breath of air and moved his hips again, fucking into Armitage’s throat. “Yes,” Poe murmured, his own muscles tensing all over his body. He pulled back and pushed Armitage’s head away, freeing himself from the redhead’s eager lips, which Poe belatedly realized he hadn’t even kissed yet.

Armitage watched him, his expression somewhere between taking offense at being pushed away and reveling in the state he’d put Poe in. “Tired already?” asked Armitage, all calm and collected.

“Not even close,” said Poe. “It’s just getting a little hot.” He took off his jacket and tossed it across the room. Then he took off his shirt and dropped it, letting it join his pants on the floor. Armitage watched, cheekbones tightening with his jawline to tense his face and hide any reaction.

“Better?”

“Almost.” Poe moved his hands to Armitage’s suit jacket, sliding it from his date’s shoulders. “You look a little hot, too.” Poe’s fingers popped open the top two buttons of Armitage’s shirt, before the redhead stopped him.

“Don’t.”

Poe raised an eyebrow. “You, ah, don’t want this off?”

Armitage’s eyes flitted away. “It’s complicated. Just don’t ask any questions.”

The eyebrow stayed raised as Poe nodded. “Yeah, sure…” He undid another button and waited a few seconds to make sure Armitage didn’t try to stop him again. When the redhead stayed still, Poe unbuttoned the rest.

“Hey,” said Poe, glancing up. He frowned when Armitage didn’t look at him. “Hey, whoa, are you okay? We can keep this on. Or, I can put something back on, and we can just watch a movie. Or, I’ll drive you to your hotel.”

“No,” said Armitage. “I want to stay here.”

Poe nodded, taking his hands off his date. “Movie, then?”

The redhead’s nostrils flared with something that, in another situation, Poe might have seen as annoyance. Armitage grabbed one of his own sleeves and pulled off the shirt.

It didn’t take much thinking for Poe to realize what Armitage had been skittish about. Armitage was covered in green-purple splotches. Bruises. Smaller ones down his arms, a huge one across his stomach, one over his side that looked like it connected to his hip and maybe his back, too. One pattern that looked enough like a handprint on the lower part of his neck to make Poe’s stomach clench with a nauseous feeling.

“What the hell?”

“I said no questions,” said Armitage. He moved his pale hands to Poe’s chest, and Poe moved a hand to a pale stretch of shoulder that didn’t look bruised. Armitage was quite a bit taller than Poe, but he felt smaller. His frame was slight, and he looked frail. Broken. Poe pulled him close, careful of any marks.

“Yeah,” said Poe. “And, I agreed to that before I saw…”

“Forget it.” Armitage tried to pull away, but Poe held him. “Let go. I’m going back to the hotel.”

Poe frowned. These weren’t old bruises. No more than a few days old at most. “Did someone you work with do this to you?”

“That isn’t important,” said Armitage. He made as if to pull away again, but the attempt was weak.

“Yes, it is,” Poe said.

“Yes,” said Armitage.

“Then there’s no way I’m letting you go back. You need to go to the police.”

“The police,” Armitage said as if he thought the very idea was ridiculous. “I can’t go to the police.”

_Right,_ Poe thought. _British mafia._ “Then stay here.”

“I can’t leave my work,” said Armitage.

“Because your sister’s with them, too,” said Poe. He frowned. He couldn’t imagine someone threatening that blonde Amazonian, but he doubted even she was bulletproof.

“My-,” Armitage paused. “Yes, my sister. They’d kill Phasma if I left.”

Poe hugged Armitage close. “Armitage…”

“They’d kill me if they even suspected I was giving information to someone like you.”

“Don’t go back. Stay here,” said Poe. “Tonight. At least.”

Armitage nodded. When Poe was sure the redhead wasn’t going to run, he went to his bedroom and threw on some pajama pants. They settled into the couch to watch something that, with Armitage choosing, ended up being a World War II documentary. It seemed like a morbid thing to watch, but it was fascinating. Poe would give it that. When it ended, Poe turned to Armitage, taking note of the way the redhead lounged against the arm of the couch. He was beautiful, in that sort of Daisy Buchanan practiced relaxation.

“You’re really just in town for the weekend?” asked Poe.

“We do business here, sometimes,” said Armitage.

“So, you might come back.”

“It’s possible.” Armitage gazed across the couch to Poe.

“What about your phone? Do you keep that number and everything?”

“Always,” said Armitage.

“So, I could still text you.”

Armitage sat up a bit. “You act as though I’m leaving, now.”

“No,” said Poe. “Preparing for when you do leave. I want to make sure we’re on the same page, even if I wake up and you’ve snuck out in the middle of the night.”

“What page would that be?”

Poe scratched the back of his own neck. “That tonight was… weird. Not the night I’d thought it would be. At all, but that’s not a bad thing. You’re an intense guy. And, if you hadn’t looked like you’d just been half-beaten to death…”

Armitage looked away and rolled his eyes.

Poe frowned and reached for his date’s hand. “Hey. It’s not – I’m not… I like you. All I’m saying is that dates end up going differently for me most of the time. And, that’s great, but this is good, too. Great. I like you. Even if you’re mad at me, I’d like to know how you’re doing every once in a while.”

“I’m not angry,” said Armitage. “I’m not broken, either. I’m not fragile.”

“Yeah,” said Poe. “Sorry I ruined the mood, then. Not sorry I was concerned, but I’m sorry it made you feel worse.”

“I hope it doesn’t make me sleeping here awkward.”

“No,” said Poe. “Never.” He hopped up. “I’ll grab you a toothbrush.”

“Do you have a laundry machine?”

Poe nodded. “Yeah, my friends are always over here using it… If you need to wash something, go for it.” Poe left to get a new toothbrush from under the sink. He set it on the side of the sink and put out some fresh towels. When he walked back out, Armitage was naked. He’d thrown his shirt and underwear into the washing machine, Poe thought. It made sense. Poe, for one, was glad to have his sleeping pants on to hide the way his body stirred upon seeing Armitage fully undressed.

_He’s hurt_ , Poe reminded himself. That was harder to keep in the forefront of his mind as they both laid down in Poe’s bed. Armitage had opted to forego borrowing any of Poe’s clothes. A fact which should have been easy to ignore since Poe couldn’t see him under the blankets. Should have been; wasn’t. Every time Armitage shifted, and Poe felt his ice-cold skin under the covers, Poe moved a little closer.

“You’re freezing,” he whispered after the third time, moving a hand to Armitage’s arm and telling himself it was out of sheer worry.

“That’s normal,” said Armitage. “You’re warm.” Armitage turned, sliding a bit closer, and his hand reached out, slipping over Poe’s skin in the darkness. Poe bit his lip as Armitage’s fingers ghosted down his chest to the fabric of his pants, pretending that Armitage hadn’t just run his hand over the embarrassingly-hard bulge right there. Half-asleep, Armitage didn’t seem to notice, and Poe found himself sending up a thankful prayer to the powers-that-be, whatever they were, wherever they were.

 

Hux happened to think that the night had gone well. Phasma had been right: Poe Dameron was _stupid._   On every other account, Hux had been right. Poe was stubborn and insistent, weak and blinded by his own emotions. Poe fancied himself a hero. He’d looked like he might fall apart under Hux’s touch, then he’d come back together all at once the moment he’d seen the bruises.

If it wasn’t so predictable, Hux might have thought the overreaction was charming. If Poe hadn’t been blinded by his own dick, he might have seen that every facet of _Armitage_ was fabricated.

“Goodnight,” said Poe, a thin layer of arousal in the air around his voice.

Hux ran his fingers over Poe’s hip, keeping the movement clumsy, his own eyes closed. He pretended not to notice the way Poe’s muscles contracted at the simple touch. “Goodnight…”

 

In the morning, Poe drove Armitage back to his hotel. The building itself looked sinister among its bland peers, and all Poe could think about was whether Armitage would be safe inside. Whether he’d ever see him again.

“Look,” said Poe. He parked the car and looked at his date. The first date in a while he felt he still had a lot to learn about after a night. “Promise me you’ll do something if anyone hurts you again.”

Armitage nodded. “Of course.” He gave Poe a thin smile, then he leaned across the car to kiss Poe in what should have been a soft goodbye. Instead, it was hot and sweet and needy, and Poe closed his eyes, pressing into the kiss. Armitage pulled away far too soon. “Goodbye.”

Poe grabbed his wrist before he could get out of the car. “Can I see you again?”

Armitage glanced back at Poe. “I don’t know when I’ll be back in the area.”

“I’ll wait,” said Poe.

The slightest trace of fondness passed through the redhead’s eyes. “I can always text.”

“And call?”

“Sometimes,” Armitage said.

“Then I’ll talk to you soon. Be careful. And, tell me if you’re ever in danger, okay?”

“There’s not much you could do,” said Armitage.

Poe let go of Armitage’s wrist. His eyes darkened. “You just tell me, okay?”

“Alright,” said Armitage. If he’d noticed the way Poe’s other hand gripped the steering wheel hard enough for his knuckles to turn white, he didn’t say anything.

 


End file.
